There you are I hear you say… where have you been?

Yesterday a member of staff in WHSmith uttered the remarkable words, “It must be your lucky day?”.  Granted, this was only due to the fact that I managed to buy the last Beano Annual 2018 which they had in the shop (and incidentally, The Mall, therefore potentially the whole of North Bristol) – but you know what, after the 10 weeks which I’ve had – I’ll take that.

There have been two reasons as to why I’ve been so quiet.

Firstly, my Dear Daddy passed away on 6^th October. It goes without saying that when someone who is so important to you is suddenly not there, it really does feel as though your whole world is knocked of its axis.

This is the first time I’ve felt nearly able to write again since that date. Yesterday was his birthday, he should have been 84. Maybe we should have told funny stories and celebrated his life, but actually all day I felt terribly sad and it just proved to me that the Papa shaped hole is still there and I desperately miss him.

Last night I sat on the edge of my bed for quite some time, trying to figure out why life was so rubbish right now and the only conclusion that I could come to is that that hole will never, ever be filled.  It must be re-shaped, re-modelled so that we can all move forward. Papa would be bloody furious with me for not picking myself up and dusting myself off sooner, but then he never did find out what the other reason was as to why I’ve been quiet. I chose not to tell him. I hope that he can forgive me for not knuckling down and getting on with life sooner.

So secondly, a week or so before Dad died, I found out that my chemo was not working. Lump 1, 2 and 3 were still present and not shrinking.

To cut a long and rather tedious story short, after seven chemo sessions, the mastectomy was back on the cards as the lumps were too large and spread out to do anything else.  The clever surgeons suggested some very complex surgery which involved taking my stomach and rebuilding my left breast with it, in the same operation as when they chopped the cancer out (a DIEP Flap micro surgical breast reconstruction for those in know). At the time, the opportunity to have no cancer, a new natural boob made only from me and a tummy tuck seemed too good to pass up, but after an hour spent with a rather challenging Russian plastic surgeon at Southmead, that was taken off the table.  This was due to a combination of her suggesting that the fact I had smoked a cigarette in the last 12 months, drink wine and was emotionally unstable (her words, not mine), that the operation was not viable. Oh, and for the first time ever, I didn’t have enough tummy fat for her to work with – who knew? All that and then me finding out that the one operation that I was expecting with an 8 week recovery turned into three operations with a 12 week recovery for the middle one. Not an option when we were desperately trying to be appointment and hospital free in 2018.

So, I was called back to the Breast Care Centre for option number two which seemed perfectly acceptable; left breast mastectomy with immediate implant reconstruction and saving the nipple at the same time (crazy Russian lady didn’t offer to save my nipple did she, yah boo sucks to her).

That happened four weeks ago and my God, this has been the worst four weeks of treatment so far. Just as I was stolidly bedding down for recovering from major surgery, and let me tell you, it bloody well hurts, I then get hit with the double whammy – when they stuck my removed mammary gland under the microscope they found Lump No. 4… Who knows whether it was there before or is a new guest to the party, but it was in a lymph node near my armpit.  I received the letter today from Oncology confirming the details with more medical mumbo-jumbo than I have seen for quite some time.

Reading between the lines, this means that the chemo has worked. A bit. It’s checked the cancer but not provided the magical cure which was hoped for. The special HER2 receptors which were going assist the Herceptin in blasting the cancer are being overshadowed by some very strong Oestrogen receptors which are muddling everything up and making a nuisance of themselves.

Next steps – Herceptin injections once every three weeks for a year are to continue, Tamoxifen tablets start tomorrow, one a day for five years, and I’m back on the list for three weeks of radiotherapy starting ASAP.  General consensus is that the Tamoxifen could be the one to do the job, but all other treatment is being thrown at it as well.

I pride myself on being able to dig deep and find the positives in the face of adversity, but I’ve got to hold my hands up to this one – I was beaten, just one more kick in the teeth too many for this year. My boob currently looks like a very large, swollen blueberry, but that’s nothing compared to the battering my emotions have taken.

Anyway…

Last week I was able to get out and about with my gorgeous four legged friend Winston. That has made me feel a lot more positive and cleared my mind a little.

Joe and I went for our second Chemo Collection photo shoot. Nice to do something fun with my boy. No pics yet, they’ll follow.

Joe is bearing up, he is angry that we are not all done before Christmas.  He’d never admit this, but I see it coming out in different ways.

I’m angry as well. Very angry.

I am so very , very sorry that my Mummy and Sisters are still having to tread this path with me, it’s just not fair.

I am fed up with being poked and prodded, but I know I have to accept all forms of treatment offered so that I can say to Joe with all my heart that I am fighting this as hard as I possibly can.

I haven’t got around to writing any Christmas cards yet, I’m sorry. I’ve no excuse. I have had plenty of time, stuck in the house for the last three weeks, but have had a huge motivation issue – Shoddy, I know.

I started my Christmas shopping two days ago and have finished it.

I’m going to a business meeting with some very wonderful and patient people tomorrow who are putting up with the ‘HypochondriaChick’ as they have renamed me – thank you L and crew for bearing with me. The sanity of talking food and wine rather than chemo and painkillers will be heavenly.

Merry Christmas to all – I promise, I won’t leave it so long next time.

BIG hugs

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